


The Warm Press of a Gentle Mouth

by ava_jamison



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 07:47:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18687199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ava_jamison/pseuds/ava_jamison
Summary: Just a thing I wrote, based on a meme prompt. It may be too much! I love this fandom.





	The Warm Press of a Gentle Mouth

Marcus thinks about it, as he lies in his bed and tries to sleep. During the day, he does not, at least as often, hiding the want in his heart, hiding in his station as a Roman and in his propriety. He hides the ache. But at night it comes to claim him, to make him take himself in hand and think of Esca, of the moments during the day when Esca has directed a rare smile toward him, or that their skin has touched, however briefly, as when his leg protests from the day’s efforts, as Esca helps him to bed. Or naked skin on skin when they spar, and Marcus finds himself flat on his back, shamefully hard and breathless.

He wants Esca to stay, when he helps him to his room. He wants him to stay and lie with him and for Esca to bed him and that is wrong. He wants to lie on his back and look up at Esca and see him smile and let Esca rut against his hip, for Esca to take him in hand, just as Marcus now takes himself in hand, thinking of Esca’s prick, sliding in the sweat and wet on the skin between his hip and thigh. 

It is wrong to dishonor Esca with these thoughts. He will not think them. 

And yet it is in his heart, and his prick is hard with the thought of it and he does not still his hand. He is so excited and he knows it will not be long, before he spills over his hand and his stomach, and then he will be free of the thoughts, at least for tonight. He will not think of Esca rutting against his body, slick and needful, and he will not think of the other things, the more shameful things, that he would not do, would not ask of his friend, of dear Esca. 

Esca whose mouth is sharp but curved, and one that Marcus would like to kiss. That is not so wrong, is it? The poets speak of kisses, and surely it is less shameful than the other things that he would do. Would have done to him. 

And he cannot help it. He thinks of Esca’s sweet mouth. How it would feel to press his lips to it the bow of his mouth, letting his mouth gently give, letting Esca’s tongue touch his. He has kissed not often. The whores he has been with, and the camp followers, he has not kissed, or overmuch. The fellow soldiers, adrenaline running after a battle, have only been rough hands under a tunic. A stolen kiss here and there, but mostly a quick relief, a rush to completion. He has not felt the touch of soft lips to another wanting mouth. To feel the moment when the other surrenders and kisses with abandon. 

One he loves.

The poets speak of it. 

Marcus wants such a thing. He would press his lips to Esca, thusly, warm and wanting, if only he were given a sign.


End file.
